


Over the Hills and Far Away

by monsterfuckerdean (MushroomDoggo)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Ending, Domestic, Fluff, Guitar, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29231265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MushroomDoggo/pseuds/monsterfuckerdean
Summary: Based on a tumblr prompt: "consider: Over the hills and Far Away by Led Zeppelin as a complete characterization for Dean and his Happy Ending (tm) with Cas" - anonymousIn heaven, you have time to learn guitar.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	Over the Hills and Far Away

In heaven, you have time to learn guitar.

It was a phrase that had popped into Dean's head one day as his fingers fumbled along the frets of the acoustic he'd picked up cheap.

He didn't mean heaven-heaven. At least he didn't think so. No, this was more like when those old-time Hollywood crooners would sing about heaven.

Maybe heaven was a feeling. Maybe it was a woman. For Dean, it was the open road.

Not the road-road. The idea of a road. Like that poem: two roads diverged in a wood, and Dean Winchester could at last choose which to take. He would take the road less-traveled-- at least by a hunter's standards.

He sat on the hood of the Impala. In the sun. The full, hot, direct light of it, feeling it bake his forearms and his cheeks as he plucked away at those shuddering strings.

His fingertips were delicate. Perhaps the most delicate parts of him-- never the target of violence and scarring, never hardened to a callous. He may have had the muscle for steel string, but his fingers cracked and bled and stained the wood.

The most wonderful bit was that, when he did begin to bleed, he could quit. He could put the guitar down and heal patiently, only to pick it up again later.

He could play the notes, but not the rhythm. That was a common issue of his. Everything rolled along so easy when he played slowly, but became a great muddled mess when he tried to play at speed. This song especially had him over a barrel; most difficult right in the beginning. With quick notes, meant to sound casual and not at all technical.

If he could just get to the meat of it, it would be all strumming away.

But he could wait. He'd get this part right, and then he'd be home free.

In heaven, you have time to learn guitar.

He plucked it again. Just the first few notes, quick as he could. Some were quicker than others.

"Agh, shit," Dean muttered.

He scooted back a bit on the hood, feet swinging freely over the asphalt. He bent forward a bit, scrutinizing his fingers as they struggled to slide along the strings. They plowed through it again, hung up in the same place as always-- though it was beginning to feel more familiar.

"Dammit." Dean chuckled to himself, then tried again.

"You're getting better at that."

"Christ!" Dean jumped a bit. He'd never be used to that, as much as he tried to be.

Castiel smirked. "Good guess, but unfortunately no."

Dean returned the easygoing smile. "That's only 'cause you've never heard this song," he said, gaze rolling back down to the strings as he played it again.

Cas leaned against the car beside Dean. He, too, peered down at the neck as Dean's fingers stumbled through the notes. "I'm sorry?"

"The song," Dean said, strumming over the strings very gently. "It's sounds good 'cause you've never heard the real one."

"Of course I have," Cas said. "It was on that tape. The Zepp Tracks tape."

Dean paused the practice to sift through his memories. "God, you kept that?"

Cas smiled and looked down at his hands. "Ah, well. A boy I liked gave it to me," he said coyly. "I couldn't get rid of something like that."

"And exactly how many times did you listen to that tape?" Dean asked. He was grinning like an idiot, now, though he feigned a focus on his playing. "I'm guessing more than once or twice?"

"Enough times to recognize the opening notes of Over the Hills and Far Away," he said matter-of-factly. "Even a little slow and a little off the beat. Is that too many?"

Dean shook his head. "No, sir. Not for any of the tracks on that tape," he said. "No such thing as too many."

"Hm." He nodded. "That's what I thought, too."

Castiel listened patiently as Dean worked through it again. And again. Over and over, the notes falling all over each other like crabs in a bucket. Getting closer all the time.

It was a beautiful day. A beautiful day for playing guitar and smiling and maybe, just maybe, singing along.

In heaven, there is time to learn guitar.

"You know," Castiel said at last, shifting ever so slightly, "if you wanted to learn faster, I could heal your fingers."

"Not the point, Cas," Dean said, jolly as always.

Cas tilted his head. "Isn't the point to learn?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah. Well-- sure, I guess. But…" He ran his fingers down the neck before dropping his hand to his knee. "I mean, I think the real point is that I've got time, now."

"Hm." Cas nodded slowly.

"I'm not… God, I'm not rushing to get it all in before I die," Dean said, though his words were choked off by something between a laugh and a cry. "Waiting around for wounds to heal is a luxury, Cas. I'm gonna enjoy it."

Cas scoffed. "That sounds more than a little masochistic."

Dean rolled his eyes. "It's not, it's not. It's-- God." He lifted the guitar strap up over his head and set the thing down on the hood beside him. "Y'know who had callouses on his fingers, Cas? Johnny fuckin' Cash."

"And…" Castiel squinted. "You want to be like Johnny Cash?"

"Johnny Cash lived," Dean continued, unphased. "He's been everywhere, man-- and I wanna go everywhere, too."

"Dean, you just bragged to me yesterday about having visited a Biggerson's in every state."

"And I stand by that accomplishment," Dean said, chuckling again. "But I've done all that. I've done that stuff so many goddamn times. I've driven back and forth across this country, and I've died more times than… I dunno. Batman, probably."

Cas shook his head, but couldn't hide his smile.

"Y'know what I've never done?" Dean asked.

"What?"

"I've never learned to play guitar," Dean replied. "I've never tried to bake a pie. I've never, in all the time I've lived in that stupid library, read the Lord of the Rings-- and I've never once spent a guilt-free day in pajamas."

Cas gave Dean a sideways look. "These are high are on your to-do list, Dean?"

"Man, shut up…" Dean gave Cas a playful shove, and Cas accepted it faithfully. "You know what I'm saying. All my life, I've been one thing. And I've been it really, really well."

"That you have," Cas agreed with a bit of a nod.

"And the best part about being done is that I… I can be someone else." Dean looked down at his hands, at the unfamiliar cracks on the pads of his fingers.

Cas nodded. "I know you're talking about being a hunter," he said. "But I think that would apply to other things, as well."

Dean swiveled around to face the angel-- or maybe not-so-angel-anymore. Castiel cast a glance over his shoulder at Dean, now cross-legged on the hood of his beloved car.

Cas very subtly uncrossed his arms and rested one hand on the hood. Dean unflinchingly reached out and took it in his own.

"Oh, yeah?" Dean's fingers danced along Cas' much in the way they had leapt between the frets on his guitar. "Such as?"

Cas clucked his tongue. "Womanizer, perhaps," he suggested wryly. "Soldier. Martyr."

"And thank God for that, huh?" Dean leaned forward slightly, and pressed his forehead into the space between Castiel's shoulder blades.

They sat like this a while. Dean's fingers wormed between Castiel's, and they interlaced with practiced ease. The sun was warm on them-- enough to burn the back of Dean's neck, but he hardly noticed. Castiel was warmer than the sun, he thought.

"I was so tired, Cas," Dean whispered.

"I know."

"There were times I thought I--" He choked on the words. "But I didn't. I'm still here."

Castiel squeezed his hand gently. "I'm glad."

"I didn't think I'd be able to do it, y'know?" Dean said.

"Me neither," Cas said. "I didn't think I'd be able to, that is."

Dean lifted his head. "It's like coming home from a war, isn't it?" he said. "I read a great book about that once. Long time ago."

"Did you?"

Dean nodded, though Cas couldn't see. "I mean, I don't remember what it was called," he said. He ran his thumb over the back of Cas' hand. "But I-- I remember the guy who came home just drove around. All day, all night. Ate at drive-through restaurants and chatted up girls and listened to the radio. He didn't know what else to do with himself, y'know?"

Castiel chuckled. "Sounds familiar."

"Maybe."

Cas pulled his hand away from Dean's.

Dean leaned back a bit as Castiel turned to face him, both hands on the car's hood-- one on either side of Dean's folded legs.

They stayed here, frozen, for a very long moment. Hardly a foot between them.

"I'm gonna be okay though," Dean said at last, softly. "You know how I know?"

"How?"

"I have you," Dean said simply. "And we can be veterans of war together. You ever think about learning guitar? Or maybe banjo?"

Castiel sighed lightly. "I don't think you should read Lord of the Rings," he said.

Dean snorted. "Yeah? Why's that?"

"I don't think you'd like the ending."

"You've read it?"

Cas shrugged. "I know more about pop culture than just what you've taught me."

Dean let out a long, low whistle. "Look at the big man, over here," he teased, tugging gently on Cas' tie. "This guy knows the end of Lord of the Rings."

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Cas?"

Cas looked into Dean's eyes for a moment. It was a strange sort of look, like a man sizing up a show horse. It drug on for far too long, Dean thought. Far too long for Castiel to be so close.

"Cas?" Dean repeated.

"I was thinking about kissing you," Cas said.

Dean's heart caught in his throat. "Uh. That your way of asking permission or something?"

"I just figured…" Cas cleared his throat. "Well--seeing as I hadn't before--I should say something."

Dean nodded slowly. "You don't have to get all hung up on thinking about it," he said.

But, even if he had, it would have been okay.

In heaven, you have time to learn guitar.


End file.
